Shy Guys Make Good Boys Pt. 01

"A friend of mine always likes to ask why Alice was in chains." I said it teasingly, feeling all the more flirty. How dare he make me react like this. Maybe he'd be a little more fearful if he had a cock cage and a leash connected to it.

Swear to God, my words didn't even actually sink in until after the fact, when I realized I'd just been quoting Courtney again. The angel piano player beside me looked down with a faint little blush that made me pause, his mischief all the deeper with those words and his voice was still shy, still soft spoken, but he said, "One thing is for sure. I'm guessing Alice knows why."

The only hint of anything at all in the statement was the slightest undercurrent to his voice. It was just enough to make me think, In my experience, Alice always for damn sure knows why, wicked thing. And worse, I was horny off of this one interaction. It wasn't that kind of arousal that's purely physical either, but that kind that starts in your mind and feels like it pumps through your blood instead. Sure, it ends somewhere around your sex, but it doesn't start there. It starts with images of a guy you just met wearing a studded, good boy collar, of how he'd look when he was leash trained.

"I feel like you're probably right." Don't make it awkward. The shy ones aren't keen on awkward. Arguably, no one was keen on awkward. I held out my hand for him, smoothing the moment over nice and easy. After deciding to be a Dominatrix, there'd been this cool side effect. See, here's the thing. You have to be able to read people pretty damned well if you want to learn how to top. Reading a room, picking up on those nuances of nervous habits that people have, that kind of thing. I'd gotten stunningly good at it, too. "Sonya."

He paused, glancing at me, and that's when he swallowed a little nervously, in a way that made me feel pretty damned good, if I'm being honest. "I'm Ryan." His answer was so soft and he lowered his eyes again in that way that made my blood race, that way that made me think, You're definitely a good fucking boy.

Which was immediately followed with the thought, I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here and then use a vibrator for a round or two until I think straight.

But I couldn't resist one last indulgence. Of course, I didn't leave immediately. I asked him who he worked for, and the answer turned out to be Nathan Faulkenberry's pharmaceutical company. And that was an answer that made me smile happily, with the thought that at least he had someone like Nathan looking out for him. But it was torture, watching him, when he would look down, even his eyes so submissive. He bowed his head in this way that was so damned cute and made a girl feel all the more protective.

So, I did something a little bad. It wasn't horrible or anything, but it was still the kind of thing that made me question myself later when I knew my own reasoning behind the action and that reasoning wasn't innocent.

It was when we stood from the piano together, with him following my lead, and his eyes were more alive with humor after talking a little bit. I felt a little proud, actually, of how he'd gotten over some of that anxiety so well when that definitely wasn't an easy thing to do.

Anyway, it was when I was looking up at him that it sank in just how much I liked him. Of course, it was Courtney who had a running joke that it was bad luck for guys if I decided that I enjoyed them. It only became more pronounced with how much I enjoyed how he was taller than me. It wasn't anything new for me when I was a small statured person, even with my heels, but it was something that turned me on, the thought of a male submissive being bigger... and making him bow to kiss my boots anyway. Mmm.

There just wasn't anything like the kinky joy of that.

I was getting ready to say goodbye to him... and I dropped my car keys instead, in a gesture that wasn't innocent with someone that submissive in behavior.

Because, of course he knelt down to get them and he didn't even think about it. People don't think about those little actions in my experience, not when they're kneejerk reactions. He just lowered down and picked up the keys, the action placing him right over my boots for a moment.

Of course, that was when it caught up to him. His eyes traveled up and lifted to mine for one moment, just a second, but it was enough to give me that rush of dominant satisfaction, especially when he swallowed, when he seemed just as affected by this as I was. And it was a moment to make me realize he was as affected as I was.

It felt like it was over all too soon when he stood back up and I had to give myself a bloody reality check, reminding myself that it was one thing for a guy to be into a domineering female and another altogether to be into the kinds of things I liked. "I'm klutzy sometimes," I said with a small smile, trying like hell to rein in whatever hormones were giving me this much fucking trouble.

"I promise it's not noticeable." His voice had a hoarse quality to it that made me smile wider, but I didn't want that to come across as making fun of him when it was far from that.

So I touched his cheek and he froze, his eyes wide on mine. "You're too kind. And thank you, love." The action would be a lot better and more effective with latex, to be honest, but it was still enough to give me the fun of his shock. I couldn't keep from a grin and then gave him a soft kiss on his jaw.

You need... to get the hell out of here, girl, seriously. That time, I finally listened. I waved goodbye and that was the end of Hall's Christmas party for me.

It gave me a little bit of regret when I left though, the thought that I wouldn't get to see him again. But the truth was I really didn't think he'd like me all that much. The other truth was that it was hard enough to say goodbye that first time and I didn't think I'd stay away from him if given another chance. If he showed half of an interest in learning the ropes, then he'd end up in a good boy collar with an emotionally unavailable Dominatrix holding a riding crop beneath his chin to teach him to meet my eyes when he begged.

Yeah, and then you'd fuck up the poor guy's sensibilities with the rest of what you'd do.

Oi vei. I did what any girl would do. I called a girlfriend. I called Courtney and asked her what she was getting into that night, in the hopes that it was something that could make me think again.

Of course, I didn't tell her what was really on my mind, even if she was someone who would definitely get it. The thing was I was too much of a closed off person and too uncomfortable with showing a sense of weakness. When you grow up in a quiet household and have to be the one who sticks up for people who would rather stay content in pacifism, you learn that opening up to anyone isn't what you should go with. It's vulnerability.

I didn't allow myself that kind of vulnerability. So I kept even him to myself, instead asking her what she was up to that night.

--------

Ryan

Do you know, for that first bit, I wished I'd run into her again? It never once occurred to me that I should have been hoping for the opposite if I wanted to keep my freedom and it was a few weeks before I would see her again.

I was writing my heart out, too, but here was why. See, I went to write more of my male Dom and female sub romance stories and I couldn't do it initially. I couldn't suppress the desires that I'd been suppressing for years. They wouldn't stay down and leave me alone after running into her.

The goddess. Holy hell. When I'd bowed to get her keys and realized the action placed me right over her knee high boots, it had been like finding myself lightning struck. It wasn't just those, either, oh no. No, see that would have been a little easier to deal with, but this was much more than just that. It was the way she was so small and held her head so high, as if she deserved to wear a crown. It was the way her eyes were reserved, keeping some part of herself back, even while she controlled the conversation. And she had done that. She had asked about me in such a calm voice that it commanded an answer.

And then the real killer part? When I'd knelt and looked up at her, there'd been this scent of her, the hot, thick, arousing scent that was purely feminine.

Jesus, it was two weeks later and it still got to me. It made me shiver anytime I thought of it and then sent shocks of discomfort down my spine with the images she inspired for me. I'd first realized these kinds of desires back in college when one of my girlfriends had gotten drunk and frisky one night. She'd shoved me back across the bed and been aggressive in the best kind of way. Sometimes before I'd felt this sense of insecurity when having sex, a kind where I wondered if what I was doing was what the girl at the time might like at that moment. Some girls liked being worked up and teased, being edged for instance. Others didn't. And sometimes it changed from night to night.

She hadn't let me wonder that night. No, she'd sat on my face and pulled my hair, looking down at me to say things like, "Work your tongue harder." And I'd discovered a whole host of new fetishes I wasn't entirely okay with.

So I'd been writing to escape it, except I couldn't escape and I ended up writing more on those stories I never shared with anyone. I had to get some of it out of me just so I could put the atmosphere in my usual romances. If I didn't get it out of me, those other romances that were a proxy to write these desires felt too hollow and didn't come out correctly. Don't think about her. No, don't think about how she was a goddess I'd love to bow to, one who looked every bit like she'd let me know exactly how many fingers to use to pleasure her, in great detail so that my world spiraled into lust.

I opened the writing app on my phone in the coffee shop I sat at, looking around for a moment with that twisted, wicked little thrill I got to be around people and to lose myself in images. I had been writing on those other fantasies the night before and maybe my muse would let me write one of my proxy stories.

Thank God, I was on a female submissive part. That seemed safer than the male parts at the moment. I swallowed, thinking, and then finally went with something that was close to me at the moment.

The truth was, it had always made me uncomfortable. It had always made me wonder what the hell was wrong with me, that I might need to be guided, especially when it came to fucking, of all things. Females in today's day and age? Damn it, we were supposed to be strong and independent, right? It wasn't supposed to be like this.

We definitely weren't supposed to be fantasizing about a patriarchal over-the-knee spanking... were we? And yet... I lay back in my bed, my sun dress riding up, feeling wicked. My thong was sheer as could be and when I pressed my fingers to my clit, I shuddered after the thoughts that he'd inspired after just one conversation. The hot scent of sex made me feel slightly like a narcissist, when it smelled goddamned amazing, even if it was the scent of my own arousal. When I stroked farther down, my pussy spread open all too readily, slick from nothing but fantasies that I was losing control of.

How bad could it be? Just to try it, if given the chance? But of course I already had the answer to that.

The worst that would happen would be that I liked it. A lot.

And yet, my body didn't really much care about those thoughts. I moaned with the sensation of hot slickness beneath the mesh fabric of the thong, stroking myself harder, imagining my pussy splayed open after he got done with me, when it would be humiliating for him to know how horny I was for him.

In my mind, all I could think of was my new muse and how her pussy might look with her pleasure. Would she let me touch? Or would she tease instead, making me watch while she stroked herself open like the girl in my story? Maybe she'd chain me just far enough away from her while she did that last one that I just barely couldn't reach and then she'd demand I begged to get to taste her. I'd do that, too. Jesus, if she was in front of me, her lips flowering open when she stroked a finger up her core, when that finger came away drenched and the scent filled my nostrils?

Oh, yeah, I'd beg.

I stroked a thumb over my lips, glancing up when I took a drink of coffee, and couldn't keep from smiling with that sensation of playful mischief. The other people in the coffee shop were just going about their own days. A few college students sat silently on their laptops, doing a paper maybe.

I shifted and hid an outright grin, then went back to the story, thinking of other images.

At first when I stroked a hand up to squeeze my breast, it was this soft touch, but then all I could think of was how deliciously rough he might be. So I squeezed harder and couldn't hold back the moan to the thought. I swallowed and shifted my hand upwards to my throat, curling it there without squeezing. All I was thinking of was how he'd brought up collars, how one might feel, but the action made me think of both how a collar would feel and how his hand would feel.

Rough. I moaned again at that thought, when even his kiss had a touch of roughness to it. The twisted thing? My discomfort was something that was, well, kind of exciting in its own way.

And wasn't that the truth? Jesus, I'd masturbated furiously after meeting her and the discomfort and humiliating thoughts only made it all the more exciting.

There was something about the self shame that made me thrill, that made me feel like the orgasm was going to be harder than ever. I stroked my fingers all the faster, furiously so, and couldn't keep back the fantasy anymore, of being grabbed and forced forward, of his hand slapping down in a strict blow.

"From here on out, you have to blame the fates for whatever happens." I jumped at the sound of her voice - misbehaving, again - and then went still when I looked up at her, went even more still when my eyes lowered again... down to another set of her boots.

"I'm sure Clotho would attempt a disagreement, but unsure that she would win," I said quietly, in a kneejerk response that I was actually rather proud of.

Sonya laughed above me, still standing, and it was a light, playful kind of laughter. The sensation of looking up to her felt more than right, too, frighteningly so. Jesus, my mind just kind of quit working when I so much as looked at her that way. Or, rather, it kept working, but thought of things I really wasn't sure how to process. "See, this just isn't fair, when you're cute and charming."

"Oh, no, now I've set a precedent and can only fail from here."

She laughed all the lighter and then glanced down at her purse. "Damn it. Here, this is my card. Will you do me a favor and get a Mocha with an espresso double shot? I left something with a friend and it won't take me a moment."

"Of course." She had this way of so casually asking, in such a confident voice, that it made me stand up and place my phone on the table without so much as considering. It was only afterwards, when I took her card, and she looked up at me, that it sent these strange shivers through my body. There was a kind of disconnect to suddenly looking down at her, to realizing I was larger than she was and then to seeing the cool, speculative look in her eyes. It was something in her smile, maybe, in the way it was slightly hidden again.

I took her card and went to order for her while she left for a moment, and didn't even notice when she came back in. When I turned around, though, she was already sitting at the table I had been sitting at, her legs crossed casually and she watched me with that small smile again, that one that sent a kind of frisson down my spine. So small. So delicate.

So dangerous. I didn't know what made me think that last one, but God, I liked the thought of it. She had her hair in a braid and that braid was twisted in a coil. There was something arousing about meeting her eyes and then lowering my gaze while I took her the coffee she wanted.

There was something even worse about the way she touched my hand, so calmly and with such confidence. "Thank you, Ryan."

"Of course." I felt winded, breathless. The goddess.

She leaned forward when I sat down. "Sorry about being intrusive. I was with some other friends, but to be honest, they're talking about this romance author they're in love with and seemed content to keep to themselves. Arguably, the stuff is pretty well written for the content they're reading."

I had that thrill of misbehaving again. "Pesky romance authors."

"True story. They're a bit of an odd group anyway and she apparently writes this series and some of them post for free. I don't know."

"Well, yeah, it's like crack. The first hit is always free."

Where was all this charm coming from? I didn't know what it was about her, if it was just that I felt comfortable around her after we had talked before, when I so rarely felt comfortable around anyone. Whatever it was, I was glad for it, especially when it made her laugh so readily and that laugh was gorgeous. Hell, all of her was gorgeous.

Sonya. The name of a goddess. She had this exoticism to her face, in the eyes specifically, and her curves were... Wow and then, of course, don't get me started on her boots. My brain short circuited again. "But maybe less dangerous than that, too."

I laughed. "It depends, sometimes."

Her eyes danced with humor, but that was when one of her friends found her in the coffee shop. Sonya watched the door open behind me, drinking her coffee so casually. I didn't think I would ever forget the image, when she was so at ease. Because her friend came up to her, another female who wasn't anything like Sonya. No, this one had far more emotion in her face than did my goddess, and her eyes had a familiar nature about them, one that made me shiver, made me pause. The world turned surreal for a moment and I didn't hear all of what her friend said because the first part made me wonder what series of events led me to her hand.

Because it started with, "Mistress Sonya, we're done talking about Kara Rhys, I promise. Kate left, but I still have a little while. Do you want-" And my pulse pounded in my ears.

Mistress Sonya. Her eyes stayed on mine for a long moment to gauge my reaction, her lips curving upwards playfully. How many ways were there to take that title? I tried to think of any except the immediate one that came to my mind, after years of suppressed fantasies, but couldn't think past that. Sonya looked away to answer her friend and her voice had a quality of stricture to it. "Go on to the book store and look without me for a moment, little pet. I'll be right there."

Little pet. God, it just got worse. Her friend grinned and waved back at Sonya, who stayed just as calm as ever when she nodded in answer. Her eyes went back to mine, while I wondered what world I had found myself in, how I'd managed to play off years of kinky writing from perspectives that weren't my own and somehow found myself drawn to a real life scenario where I couldn't fake very well at all. People had been wondering so much as my gender for a long time in writing.

How did I end up sitting across from her in real life? Later, I'd have to think of the philosophy in that, how it was almost poetic that people could hide behind pens, but not when forced face to face with desires that we tried to run from.

Sonya broke the quiet first, so easily too. "Well, that wasn't anything how I planned for any of this to go." And yet, she seemed so unruffled by that fact. Her eyes were still so light with playfulness and her voice was still so calm. I had the stray thought that it was a quality I needed to add to my male Dom in a scene, that he would be able to easily go with a spontaneous curve ball. I couldn't. "Ryan?" Her voice was quite gentle and I lowered my eyes to her coffee cup.